


Threatened

by MyOwnWorstCritic



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-04
Updated: 2009-04-04
Packaged: 2019-08-21 06:35:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16571486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnWorstCritic/pseuds/MyOwnWorstCritic
Summary: Jenny feels threatened, or so Gibbs says.





	Threatened

"Do you feel threatened?"

He watched as her eyes flashed fire, with a smirk, one he certainly regretted a bit as she advanced on him.

"Do I  _feel threatened_?" She was clutching her briefcase so hard, her knuckles were turning white. He stepped forward and pressed her into the doors of the elevators. He lingered close, watched as her eyes widened, and she tried to step back, and surprisingly, right that moment, the doors opened her—thank God there was nobody in it. Only until it was too late, did she realize she trapped herself even more by stepping into the small space. He kept on pushing her, and only briefly turned away to hit the close doors button and then the emergency stop button.

As much as she wanted to flee, she hadn't even moved from the position he left her in, leaning against the back wall. He was back in a matter of seconds back up against her, trying to push again.

"Yes, Jen, do you feel threatened?" She tried to push her luck, and stall for time.

"By who?" His hands were on her hips, although one of them was moving lower and lower. Her breath hitched as it rounded to her backside and rested right under her ass, on her upper thigh. A shudder passed through her, along her spine, and she knew he felt it, knew it at the smug smile on his face. She sucked in her lower lip and bit down on it, hard. The hand that was on her thigh reached up, and pulled her lip out of her teeth, passing his thumb against her lower lip. She sucked it in gently and bit down softly. His smile widened.

"The redhead down there." She had the gall to scoff.

"Of course not. Why would I?" She looked away, and he was glad she didn't see him smile when her right eye twitched. Her head was to the side, exposing a side of her pale throat and neck. He leaned forward and placed a breathy kiss to the underside of her jaw, working all the way down to her—in his opinion—over-exposed cleavage. He felt her stiffen, and she wanted to turn her head, but he turned it back to her previous position. He paid a lot of attention to her clavicle, but was careful not to let any red marks.  _Not yet, anyway_. When her head fell back against the back off the elevator, he took the invitation to continue his antics on the other side of her throat. She let out a breathy whimper when he stopped.

"Because according to DiNozzo, she has the hots for me," he mumbled against her skin. Her stomach tightened, and she hated how a hot sensation traveled down to her core.

"A lot of women have the hots for you," she managed, and he chuckled. It was such a contrast to their conversation  _and_  actions.

"Yes, but this one was flirting..."

"So?" He bit down gently at a little skin on the side of her neck. Her breath hitched, hard as she tried to suppress it.

"You don't really like that, do you?" His free hand was running through her hair, and it stopped, grabbing a hold of her hair, and tugging backwards, making her head tilt back, exposing even more skin to him. As he laved attention there, she didn't try to stop her moans. Her eyes fluttered close, but they opened quickly when he pulled away. Both his hands came up and under her suit jacket, moving back down and bring the jacket with it, successfully divesting her of her jacket.

She knew her blouse was straining against her breasts, and she knew exactly why. He had done the wash, and she had felt the differences in a few clothes: they had shrunk. First she thought it was her imagination, but the she thought back to once upon a time, when her socks—that had originally been white—came out of the wash pink, and it was him who had done that specific load. Although this time, she had a feeling he'd done it on purpose.

He smirked when he saw her blouse. He knew that she knew he'd done it on purpose. If he wasn't sure his tactics had worked before, he certainly wasn't mistaken now. He smugly smiled, confirming her suspicions at the same time. He realized she hadn't replied to his question, and though he knew the answer, he wanted her to tell him.

"Answer me," he said, returning to her exposed cleavage.

"Why should I care?"

"You're telling me it wasn't you who four months ago laid claim on me?" It was true, though. He'd had to go semi-undercover—Abby's words—and flirt with a woman who favored Marines, and upon getting home, she'd pulled him to her by his shirt—"You're mine, only mine, and all mine"—and then had her 'wicked way' with him.

She softly moaned when he easily popped the first button of her shirt. The others soon followed and in a matter of seconds her blouse was on the floor, on top of her jacket.

She wasn't exactly sure when, but sometime her briefcase had been released from her hand and left forgotten on the floor.

"So, you're not threatened?"

"No—." She gasped as he sucked on her pulse point. He pulled back and admired her. She stood in front of him clad only in her black pants and black lace bra. His hands moved over her hips, and as he nipped at a taut nipple through fabric, his hands undid the button on her pants and lowered the zipper. Her hands were on his head, urging him closer, as she was ached like a bow into his ministrations. He moved his hands under her p ants and gently fingered the lace he found there. The pants moved down on its own accord, and she stopped out of it when it pooled at her feet, kicking it away.

It was then that she realized she was the only one getting rid of clothes. And she didn't like it.

She reached out and pushed his suit jacket off, leaving it in the ever-growing pile of clothes. She then untucked his shirt, and didn't waste time bothering with the buttons, simply pulled it over his head. He buried a hand in her hair, tilting her head back, and leaned down to kiss her.

All her breath left her in one millisecond. She melted into his embrace, and as his willing tongue swiped at her lips, she obliged. He probed her mouth with his tongue, before she wanted the control and kissed him back with equal fervor. He, however, didn't relent. She found herself succumbing to the kiss. She lost all sense of rationality. Her knees weakened and her insides were jelly. It was a good thing he held her up or she would've seriously collapsed.

He released her and left a path of wet kisses all the way down to the top of her bra. He reached behind her and undid the black lace material and slipped it off her, his mouth over a nipple in no time. Her eyes were clamped shut and her breathing was labored—at best. She was moaning and whimpering, letting him know how much she was enjoying it. He switched sides and latched onto the other nipple, his hand occupying the other one.

In a moment of clarity, she reached out to try and undo his belt, but failed when he scraped his teeth over her taut nipple.

"Jethro," she breathed. He smirked and pulled away, taking off his belt and pants. He then removed her thong, flinging it across the small confined space. While she removed his boxer shorts, her ran a finger down the swell of her breast, her waist, hip, thigh, and then moved back up. He spread her legs a little, and went right to the core of the situation. He pushed two fingers inside of her, and she cried out when his thumb circled her clit. He pumped slowly and languidly, but she hated it. She bucked her hips, trying to encourage him to go faster, but he wouldn't take any of that. He kissed while his hand moved, and the other one reached behind her to rest on the small of her back. He brought her to her first earth-shattering orgasm, and she was thankful he was kissing her, or they could've heard her scream all the way to China. He removed his hand, and she smiled in anticipation.

She wrapped a leg around him, keeping him close. He easily entered her, slowly, and they both moaned, although his sounded more like a groan. One of his hands was supporting them, his palm was flat against the wall behind her, and his head covered hers, and he coaxed her into a kiss.

"Christ, Jen." She clamped down onto him, and he had to hold very still to keep his control. Her head hung in the crook of his neck, and both were panting. His free hand grabbed hold of the leg around him, and held onto it as he started to thrust in and out of her. She whimpered and bit on her bottom lip. She squirmed a little, and unintentionally twisted, and the slight change in angle was all he needed to pick up the pace and pound into her at rapid tempo.

"Oh God Jethro," she moaned and leaned her head back.

After a while, he started to feel a tingling sensation in his lower back, but he didn't want to come before her, so he reached down and rubbed her into oblivion. When she cried out, and shuddered in his arms, he vaginal muscles closed around his member and milked him to his own mind-blowing climax.

They were both panting when they came to. He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She leaned forward and he kissed her softly.

They both got clothed again and when he was sure she looked okay, he hit the emergency button. The elevator jolted to life and the doors opened on in front of MTAC.

Just as she exited the elevator, he said, "I love it when you feel threatened!"

The elevator doors closed, but not before he saw the fire flash in her eyes.


End file.
